


Emergency Situation

by fits_in_frames



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-07
Updated: 2006-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only for House would he get in his car at 3:39AM on a Tuesday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ionsquare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare/gifts).



Only for House would he get in his car at 3:39AM on a Tuesday morning. All right, House and Julie, but Julie is usually right next to him at that hour. House woke them both up by calling twenty minutes ago (it was an "emergency situation", though he couldn't say why), and now Wilson's is yawning from the driver's seat in his pajamas and overcoat. He pulls up to House's apartment complex, pushes the call button without looking, and the door swings open, almost knocking him over.

The door to House's apartment is open when he reaches it, but he knocks and calls for him anyway.

House opens it and walks away without inviting him in. The room is trashed: books have been pulled off the walls, the sofa is overturned, and pens are strewn about the place. House limps over to his desk chair and stops, leaning heavily, facing the window. Wilson sees his cane is in pieces on the floor by the sofa. He steps in, but doesn't say a word, only closes the door and stands there with his hands on his hips.

"She left," House says flatly into the silence.

"When?" There's no shock in his voice because he's not shocked. And he's tired.

"Eight-thirty."

"And you just got around to calling me now?"

"I had some things to take care of."

Wilson crosses the room, and touches House's shoulder with two fingers. House turns.

"I'm sorry," he says, and House grabs him into a tight hug, which causes them to lose their balance and House ends up on top of him. They stare into each other's red-rimmed eyes (his from lack of sleep, House's from God knows what) for a moment, and then it happens: like a flash of lightning, House kisses him.

Now he's shocked. "Greg, I--"

"Shh," House explains, eyes closed, lips almost touching his. "Jim, I need you, please." And so Wilson doesn't protest when House methodically slips a hand under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, then straddles him, digging into his pocket and producing a condom. He helps House unzip his jeans, lying flat on his back, sweating all over his coat, which comes off a minute later when House flips him over. He hears the package open, bites his lip, and waits: propped up on his elbows, ass in the air, ear against the floor.

The first thrust makes him see stars. He moans loudly and slaps the hard wood with an open palm and grabs the nearest object (a section of cane handle) to sink his teeth into. House leans over him, hands on his hips, lips brushing his shoulder, and says, "I need you, I need you" before thrusting again. His cry is muffled by the plastic in his mouth this time, and the next time, and the next. By the fifth thrust, his eyes are watering and his mouth is dry and he is actually starting to like it, which scares him almost as much as when House wraps a cool, rough hand around his erection. He pounds the floor with his fist and moans into the handle when he comes, and a moment later when House does the same.

House tries to stand up, but falls backwards, landing with a painful thud on his tailbone. Wilson rolls over to lie on his back again, not bothering to pull up his flannel pants as he tries to will his heart to slow down. House pushes himself up, leaning on the sofa, jeans around his ankles, and throws the used condom into the sink, fifteen feet away. "Three points," he says breathlessly.

"Three points? You just fucked your best friend and all you can say is--wait a minute," Wilson says, sitting up suddenly, making his head spin, "why was there a condom in your pocket?"

House gives him what may be the only genuinely sheepish look he's ever given in his life. "Emergencies," he says.


End file.
